


Lost Souls

by astrophelthracius



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Death, Female Merlin, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrophelthracius/pseuds/astrophelthracius
Summary: Don’t read if the tags trigger you.He had everything, then he had nothing.





	Lost Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta’d. Sad. It escalates quickly. I don’t know why I’m like this.

Merlin gazes at the palace from her windowsill. It’s alight with pyres and all manners of entertainment. 

She shifts her gaze to the television. It’s not so often that she uses it, but tonight she can’t help but turn to it. Tonight. The crown prince is being honored for the great deeds he’d done during his brief service in the military. Her hands sweat at the mere thought of it. The time when Arthur had gone off and gotten himself taken hostage along with his platoon on a customary patrol mission.

She’d spent those nights inconsolable, a walking husk of worry and nerves. Not that anyone had noticed, she had no one to care for her moods. 

The memories of Arthur’s bruised and battered body always brought a mixture of sorrow and pride to her. She lays on the bed and keeps watch.

It’s the persistent knocking on the door that wakes her from her doze. She pulls a shawl on haphazardly and hastily opens it. 

Just as she thought, her arms loop around the man’s arm and she pulls him in. The blonde man follows but the disapproval in his gaze does not waver.

“Merlin, you idiot. I told you to check the intercom before opening the door!” His voice may he raised but the way his hands settle on the small of her hips tells Merlin he’s only mildly annoyed at most.

She smiles cheekily up at him and stands at the tip of her toes to give him a kiss. She raises an eyebrow when it’s not met. “You know two can play that game.” She lets her fingers linger on the nape of his neck before pulling away-

“Arthur!”

The shrill cry doesn’t dissuade the man as she’s pulled up and into his arms. She glares up at him but doesn’t squirm off even as they settle on the sofa. 

Arthur only takes his hands off her to help her remove his jacket and vest. She drapes herself over Arthur’s lap afterwards, lounges against his firm chest. Silence settles in like a long lost friend and it’s only a silent whisper from her lover that breaks it.

“I missed you.”

She kisses his jaw and plants a hand on his chest, rubbing soothingly. “I was worried about you.” Blue eyes gaze down from blonde lashes and Arthur nods tightly. He knows how much it takes for Merlin to confess to such things and he acknowledges it.

Merlin looks up at him with a glint in her eyes, mischievous but so achingly vulnerable. He lets her do as she pleases, encourages wandering hands as they roamed his body. Her eyes seem to catalogue every detail, every bruise as she unbuttons his dress shirt and pushes it off inch by inch. 

These are her moments, the ones where she owns him completely. Her breathing’s on the edge of arrhythmic by the time she’s done. Arthur’s boxers are gone and pants are undone, ridiculously they’ve spooled at his ankles and he’s buck naked. Not even his watch and wedding band had survived the inspection.

Merlin pulls him up and he dutifully follows, slipping out of the trousers and making a mental not to get Leon to bring a new set. They settle on the bed this time and Merlin lets the shawl fall at her feet and slips the nightdress off of her. Arthur hums in approval, high quality silks look much better on the floor, not hiding the divine beauty of his beloved.

She climbs on the bed with the same charming blush she’d had their fist night but she’s more...confident, certain that her advances are desired. 

Arthur loved the feel of her on him, like a plant starved for water. He touches her reverently, the soft swell of her ample breasts, the dip on her waist, the wet heat on her core. Her gasps and moans are music to his ears and he’s enthralled by her tunes. She arches at every caress, every stroke he places deep within her. His fingers bring quivering life to her nerves and she’s helpless in the face of it. Their breaths mingle as he finally, finally sheathes his manhood within. He places a kiss upon her lips and lingers there.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of hers and she gives as good as she gets. But her eyes are glazed and dilated, so much so that there’s only a ring of blue around them. He wonders if she’s even focussing on him. He rocks gently, rolling his hips sensuously every now and then. 

Merlin’s legs twitch by his waist and her nails dig at his back, her lucious lips parted in the most alluring “o”. She surges up when he digs his feet ain and thrusts upwards. He braces a hand on her, on on the hip and the other on the nape of her neck. She twitches as the curve of his cock presses against the bundle of nerves inside her, as he pins her in place, helpless and ready to weep.

He nuzzles her nose as he rocks minutely, keeping the pressure on her spot as he strokes it. Her eyes darts upwards for a moment before they are on him again. Her breathes are ragged and pleas spill out of them, the nails on his back are taking at his skin but he keeps it up. Then he crowds her back against the bed and starts thrusting in earnest. He’s a little too long and a little too wide but not monstrously so. He’s still careful, watchful of the way Merlin seems to convulse so deliciously when he hilts himself in her. 

He bends over her and settles one of her legs on his shoulder. He nips at her perked nipples and pushes his head onto her bosom as he gives her minute, shallow thrusts before deepening them. His beloved tears up wonderfully and pleads for her orgasm. Wrapped around her dainty fingers, he gives it. He lays a wet thumb on the nub of her womanhood and strokes it expertly in time with his thrusts. 

Merlin’s entire body tautens and she’s quivers with pleasure. At some point, when he knows she’s on the edge, on the brink of spilling, she subconsciously tries to pull away, he holds he down tight. Then the most wondrous things happens, she stares at him and sobs as orgasm washes upon her. The moment she finishes, her body falls limp and her eyes are so glazed that he knows she’s not looking at him anymore. Arthur spills at the sight of it, the sound of it, the smell, the incomparable feel of her pleasure. He thrusts minutely as he rides it.

He chokes on a gasp as her entrance tightens around him again and this time she screams. His cock feels like it being squeezed for everything. She clutches on his biceps as he tries to pull away. 

“Oh god-“ 

Merlin openly sobs as another wave hits her. Jesus- 

Arthur is about ready to cry as well because he’s been milked and has nothing left to give. He’s over sensitive and- there’s another contraction and this time Merlin really does pass out. He keeps still as a rock until he’s sure nothing’s going to set Merlin off yet again. When he pulls out, he’s already fully limp.

Merlin stares at him from under her lashes and smiles. He kisses her on the nose and embraces her. He sleeps.

Merlin pulls a blanket over the two of them, her hands shake, still reeling from the intense bouts of their coupling. She’d love nothing more than to join Arthur in his dreams but this is hers. This reality, this time, the scant few minutes she can see her lover so unguarded.

She tucks herself back into Arthur’s embrace, her head pillowed on the crook of his arm and her hand twined with his. She traces the indention of the wedding band. It’s not sadness that washes over her, not anymore. Just a resigned knowledge that it’s all she can ever have. 

Arthur barely groans as she sits up but he hand automatically curls around her waist. She leaves it there, she longs to have him caress her belly. She aches to tell him of the life within her, the almost invisible swell of their child. But Arthur- he doesn’t want that. Even then, he can’t afford to have it and she can’t bear to lose her child too. Or worse yet, to have to make him choose.

So she settles for this. 

Arthur leaves moments after midnight. He gives her an odd look when she takes him to the door. She usually sleeps, preferring not to see him leave her. He doesn’t utter a word about it anyway.

Merlin lingers on the window, watches as Arthur’s car pulls away. Then she pulls out her duffel bag and fills it with the most important things. The pictures of her and her mother, her and Arthur, the sonograms of her little 3 month baby, the ring that Arthur had given her, the clothes she owned and bought with her own money. She leaves everything else, even the phone Arthur had gifted her. She leaves the bank book from Arthur as well.

She cleans the apartment, clears outs the fridge and folds the suit Arthur had left. Her hands almost tremble as she puts the living room to rights, not noticing the ring that rolls off. 

She allows herself one selfishness, she takes the coat Arthur had lent her the first time they went out on a date. It’s soft and lovely, and so, so warm.

It’s strange to think that she can put everything she owned in two measly bags. She leaves the key with the reception. 

She carries her passport and doesn’t look back. The tickets to Los Angeles are almost laughing at her. The irony of it, she’d always said she’d never set foot in America. Then again, she also said she’d never take a man from his wedded wife and here she is. The worst thing is, she doesn’t regret any of it. 

Will had laughed at her before, “you never do it by halves mate!”. That was when he found out she was banging the prince. When she told him she was having an affair with the recently married royal, he’d looked at her piteously and said the same thing. What would he think of her now? What would her mother think of her? She détours at the cemetery, leaves a final bouquet in Will and her mother and father’s grave. Nothing’s left for her, no one’s here for her.

She rubs at her belly, she promised to be there for her baby. She sits on the graveside, takes a long good look at her family. A shadow stops behind her. She steps back and pulls her luggage out of the path with a “Sorry.” The shadow lingers though. 

“I would think so.” 

Her head swivels at the familiar voice. Arthur’s sweaty and slightly out breath. 

“Oh.”

His hand falls on hers and she pulls it off her belly as if she’d been burned. Arthur doesn’t miss a beat. His hand splays over the imperceptible swell and the other goes to Merlin’s neck. She can’t help but melt slightly into the touch. Then she sees the pavement and she jolts, stepping back so quickly that her sight blurs a little bit and she loses her bearing. 

Arthur steadies her but his face get that look of indignant worry. She pushes his hold off.

“I’m fine.”

Arthur steps back a little bit but they’re still entirely too close. 

Merlin clears her throat and picks up the fallen suitcase. She’s only taken a step before Arthur’s gripping her arm.

“Wh-“ he holds his tongue. “Don’t leave-“ Merlin resolutely doesn’t look back when she tries to shake his hand off. “Please.” His thumb strokes over her wrist. 

“I- we can’t live like this.” Merlin shakes her hand again and Arthur lets go. “My baby doesn’t deserve to be a dirty little secret-“

“Ours. Our baby. Mine and yours Merlin.”

She finally turns around and looks at him. She strokes his cheek and he leans against it. “Just mine.”

The sound of his heart breaking is like a death toll. Arthur doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t do much as think as he drops on his knees and presses Merlin’s hand against his lips. 

“I’m sorry. Please, please forgive me. Don’t leave me.” Merlin looks at him with all the love and sorrow, and maybe a tiny sliver of pity. But she pulls away. “I’m going to do right by you Merlin- by our child- I promise.”

Merlin gasps. “I don’t need that-“ she backs away just a tiny bit. “I’m not making you choose between us and- I’m not.” She sighs so sadly that Arthur’s heart tightens. “You’re going to be a great king someday.”

She walks away. Arthur follows like a lost child. Gods- his baby. His-

He- “Merlin!”

The world feels like it’s at slow motion when he sees her tip over. He pulls her back against his chest, she’s pale and clammy and there’s tiny droplets of sweat on her brow. He sweeps her up into his chest.

“Percival!” 

Percival takes them to the car, Merlin’s belongings thrown into the second car as they drive to the hospital. There’s already a few paparazzi at the edges of the hospital. 

“Your highness, please stay in the car. I’ll take Ms. Emrys inside.”

Arthur almost wants to scream and rage. He presses a forehead on Merlin’s and moves to stroke her cheek. He stares in horror at the sight of it, his arm is streaked with red- blood. His breath feels short and his hands shake as he lays it over Merlin’s belly. 

He stares dumbly as Percival pulls Merlin up and off of him and onto the waiting stretcher. 

He follows blindly, ignoring the bunch of vulture like cameramen as he follows Merlin. He can’t hear beyond the ringing in his ears and he can’t see beyond the blood and Merlin. He collapses as soon as he’s pushed away from the treatment room. 

When he comes to, Leon’s guiding him onto the chair. It’s plastic and cold and nothing at all like the sofa him and Merlin had been sitting in just last night.

“M-Merlin.” He can feel his entire body trembling.

Leon’s hand tighten on his shoulder. “Sire, the physician will be here for you in a while.” 

Arthur stares blankly at his arm, the blood has dried on it. He flinched away when Leon tries to wipe it off with a wet cloth. 

“Our baby-“ His eyes are blurry with tears. “I killed our baby.” The sobs just overcome him and he loses it right there. He can hardly give a flying fuck even with the cameras flashing. He belatedly realizes that he’s not even wearing his ring. He flinched at that thought. This is what he’d done- what he’d caused. 

The physician comes and goes. He barely spares a look and a yes or no.

He doesn’t know how long passes but Merlin’s still in the treatment room by the time Morgana and Gwen arrive. Gwen looks just as devastated as he is. And all he can do is look her in the eye when she kneels in front of him and he tells her. 

“I killed our baby.” Gwen, ever so sweet, pulls him into an embrace. She must be hurting, she must be. Arthur only ever hurt. Morgana hugs him as well, cleans up the blood on his arm despite his whinging. They hold his hand until the doctor comes out. 

His knees buckle when they tell him their baby was gone. His head swims when the doctor says the words miscarriage and lost fetus. They wheel Merlin out afterwards and Arthur’s only thankful Morgana had gotten rid of the reporters because he’d have killed anyone who would dare to take Merlin’s photo at this stage. 

He sits by her side. Gwen and Morgana sit by Merlin’s other side, they pray for her. Merlin doesn’t wake for an hour but when she does, they’re all there. She barely looks at Arthur, all she does is cry. Cry those wretched, heaving sobs until she’s so exhausted she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Arthur can do nothing- can’t even holder her because she chokes like a wounded animal anytime they try to touch her.

The next time she wakes up, it’s only Arthur who’s there and he thanks all the gods he wakes up in time to stop her from doing something stupid. Like jump from the fucking window. This time he doesn’t let her go even when she screams herself hoarse. Her hand is bloody and the dextrose has been removed when the nurses finally get a sedative in her. 

He doesn’t venture outside nor does he foray the television. All he knows is Morgana had said she’ll handle it.

The divorce papers aren’t a surprise, what’s surprising is his fathers presence. Not to mention the apology and sorrow in his eyes. If only he hadn’t forced Arthur into marriage- if- if - if. Arthur hates that word. It’s no one’s fault but his own, he’d let it happen.

When they send Merlin home they give her a bunch of pamphlets for support groups and private caters. She doesn’t do so much as blink as she leaves them on the bed. It’s painful to watch her hovel, her steps are stilted and stuff but she refuses the wheelchair. She doesn’t want the food, she doesn’t want the clothes, she doesn’t care if there’s a hoard of journalists on the front door. Arthur sidles up to her and waits until she’s tired enough to willingly lean against him.

She stops short of the last turn to the door. Her eyes are forlorn and teeming with unshed tears. “I don’t even have a body to bury.” 

Then she seems to loose all her strength and she sags against Arthur...just quiet. Arthur puts her in the wheelchair and strokes her hair. They leave through the entrance on the side, just to give them some semblance of privacy. She’s unmoving in the car and Arthur doesn’t try to engage her.

He brings Merlin to their summer home.

Merlin doesn’t protest but the she doesn’t do much, just sits by the window with an envelope clutched on her lap. Arthur’s never seen what’s inside but he’s pretty sure it’s their baby’s scans. He ignores the Clarence House, the parliament, his father. He stays with Merlin, sits by her and reads, tries to get her to eat what measly bit he can get her to. And on the rare occasions he’s allowed to he hugs her until she’s in an unseeing trance and eventually a fitful sleep. Most nights he just sleeps at the settee or the sofa. 

It’s a month of the same unresponsive Merlin and Arthur snaps. He takes her to the greenhouse against her vehement protests. He laughs bitterly at the realization that Merlin’s anger gets his heart leaping for joy because at least it’s a fucking response.

On the fortieth day of her miscarriage, the two of them bury the clothing Merlin was wearing then. They put the scans in an album and etches the date onto the biggest tree in the greenhouse.

Merlin’s never the same, she’s quieter than before, more reserved and much older. But she starts smiling again ever so slowly. Arthur learns to spend a few hours away from her without losing his mind. 

He finds her lifeless body in the greenhouse years after, a bottle of pills in one hand and their baby’s scans in the other. He cradled her broken body that finally matched her broken soul.


End file.
